Remember
by L0necl0ud
Summary: A small meander with Sheriff as he brings the Sunday paper to Doc up in the mountains.


**I've stumbled across many ideas on Lightning visiting Doc's grave, as well as stories. I've also always seen Sheriff and Doc being close friends, so I thought perhaps we'd explore Sheriff's perspective this time**.

Really, just because they rarely use the place, and the fact that it's so hidden here in the range, doesn't mean they should let it go to waste. Perhaps if they, if he, weren't so busy, they could come up and rake away the pine needles, clear the tumbled rocks piled near the back against the mountain wall, pick the weeds. He wasn't sure they could polish the stones, if they had the materials hidden somewhere in town. It was uncertainties like that that reminded him a lot of the town really was still a ghost town despite all the tourists.

He refused to touch the stone before him, even brush the top of it. He stared solemnly instead. The wind ruffled his long since grey hair and he pursed his lips.

It wasn't cold, far from. A single ember could light this dry forest aflame, so he had left his cigarettes in the car so as not to be tempted. He had left his sweater as well, and was left in a collared undershirt.

_You were supposed to outlive me, even though I'm only ever two years your senior. Our favourite joke._

He knelt down.

_What a joke._

He placed an unrolled newspaper on the ground. They were his reminder to visit. Every time one came around with that crazy red car turned literally blue alongside that yellow suited rookie excitable as her outfit he finds time. The paper is brand new, just unwrapped, the plastic also hidden away in his car. So many plastic bags, yellow, blue and pink, he should really get to clearing them out. Or just continue shoving them in the old glovebox.

He thinks about how Lightning keeps thinking he's past it all, done healed, moved on.

Poor kid can't realise the root of his trying constantly to bring some aspect or another of his crew chief back.

Of his father figure.

Of Sheriff's closest friend.

He'd say he's done too, gone and past and moving forward but here he is. Thinking half to himself, half to an empty, non existent presence. He was anything but a hypocrite though, so he always returned with the latest news, not a gift, they never got each other gifts anyways, and always answered honestly when asked upon arriving back in town.

He was as dignified about it as Lightning.

So perhaps Lightning did know.

How distant had they'd grown? Sheriff was still training him all these years later, it couldn't be that bad.

_You were supposed to out live me._

He was. He was younger, he was the doctor. Sheriff was older, and sat in his car all day smoking other than the occasional work out. He still had a town to protect though, and who else could better take over watching over Lightning? Perhaps it was only fitting.

He sighed. He really needed to start properly training some new cop, or perhaps someone that's not brand new, find someone from the Caprice or early Victoria days that has at least some experience and adaptability.

He stands again with popping knees and winces. The wind has picked up, refreshing in the heat.

He was exhausted. Finding time to come here really meant after he was done watching his post come sundown. It was dark, he only knew of the rubble from seeing the place come sun rise, and he seemed only now to realise how little he could truly see.

Even in his weary state he could travel to the plot out of habit.

He could barely see the yellow of the car Lightning's rookie raced on the front of the newspaper. Nothing else but the faint outline of the newspaper and the stone backing it could be seen. He had a flashlight. He could flick it on, find light and see the area. He never did. He enjoyed the calm of the quiet, the crickets only a few yards away in the shrubbery, the familiar dark. It reminded him of nights in his darkened car, talking out the window to Doc who sat in a lawn chair in the dark besides him, knowing that, should Sheriff have to take off suddenly, he wouldn't be harmed, completely unafraid. It reminded him of creeping into Doc's flat with his personal copy of keys gifted to him come the early hours of morning when the winter cold was too harsh on his bones in the car. It reminded him of the calm nights in Radiator Springs walking away from Flo's into the dark but safe night with his buddy, conversing, before they were all busy with a town revived.

Before Doc was too busy to care for his own ailing health.

-He couldn't blame Lightning. They did their best to tell Doc to take it easy, even Sally stepped in.

Doc was always more stubborn than all of them combined.-

So he didn't turn on the flashlight. He didn't want to see, he just wanted to hear the nights breeze and rustle of overgrown dry grass, feel the heat and the occasional strand of hair falling into his face as he lowers his head.

_You were stubborn from the start. Always brushin us off, acting confident, hiding your past. I knew better._

_I always knew better. Those old days, couldn't get rid of me. Never told you but I never meant to be pushy._

He knew Doc never minded, they wouldn't have grown so close otherwise. He had somehow dug just enough, held back just the right questions, balanced the respect. Who was truly the smarter one after all these years? The doctor or the cop?

_They always sayin helpin someone, having a friend, that there's nothing better._

He doesn't finish the thought. The thought on how this is his prize, because maybe his prize isn't the grief, maybe his prize is the rookie turned retired racer Lightning, someone he can reminisce with, who was the only nearly as close to Doc as he was. If he hadn't gotten Doc to stay and find himself a place in Radiator Springs after being a lost dog on the streets, he wouldn't have had Lightning to bring them both a whole new level of joy.

He was practically their son.

That was always the comfort. What's a few years of sadness compared to practically a life time of friendship and trust and fun, to a last minute stitched together unofficial family?

His head hurts, so he turns around and heads back, with creaking, trembling bones he heads back, messy hair no longer parted down the middle after such a long night. He nods to where he knows Lizzie lays, and exits. He closes the creaky, decomposing wooden gate, and finds his way into his old Mercury parked just outside.

He doesn't drive away, doesn't even wake the engine, he'll drive home tomorrow. He lays down and pulls over the sweater like a blanket. He remembers long nights sitting in his car, window down to chat with his old buddy, unafraid of harm should Sheriff have to take off, he remembers his old house next to his office getting too lonely as the town drained of life, and unofficially officially crashing at Doc's after patrol from then on, He remembers sleeping on the old pull out couch, Doc just one room over, peaceful.

Now he sleeps in his car, Doc, perhaps, just one realm over, peaceful.


End file.
